


Arms Race

by Ridgeview



Category: The Expanse (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:02:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23159737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ridgeview/pseuds/Ridgeview
Summary: This story takes place between the events of Leviathan Wakes and Caliban's War. The crew of the Rocinante has been hunting pirates for Fred John for about a year. The nature of the work is taking its toll. Just when they thought they could relax, they're given a mission that could shift the balance of power in the entire system.
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

**Arms Race**

Captain James Holden of the _Rocinante_ stared into his command console. It displayed the outline of a Belter gunship; a patchwork of salvaged parts and weapons. He tried reasoning with the pirates to no avail. Each craft had traded blows, but the gunship couldn't compete with the Martian torpedo bomber.

Naomi Nagata, Holden's executive officer, operated the sensor station on his left. Her Belter accent came through his helmet's earpiece, between bursts of static. "They're dumpin' core Jim, your orders?"

So the _Rocinante's_ PDC rounds crippled them, Holden mused. He pictured the deep gashes running down the frigate's starboard side; courtesy of the last salvo. The criminals had their chance to stand down and refused. There was one thing left to do.

"Take them out," Holden said.

"Sure 'bout that hoss?" Alex asked. "If they're dumpin' core, it's over."

Holden began speaking. The ship's engineer, seated at the comms console behind him, interrupted. "It's the captain's call, sounded pretty sure to me."

"Thank you Amos," Holden replied.

He turned to Naomi. Her bright brown eyes pleaded with him. He swallowed hard, turned back to the screen, and keyed a few buttons. The schematic transitioned to a grid. The crippled gunship appeared on it as a red blip. "Fire one torpedo."

"Torpedo away," Alex reported.

The ship lurched, hurling the missile to its destination. Holden watched the torpedo icon streak across the screen with grim satisfaction. In seconds, the icon pierced the blip, erasing it from sight.

"Target destroyed," Alex declared somberly.

Holden closed his console's interface and leaned back in his seat. He detached his helmet with a _click_ , letting it float free in the micro-gravity. The ship's oxygen rich atmosphere refreshed his lungs. He unclasped his seat straps and faced Naomi's console. Her chair was empty, she was nowhere in sight.

Mag-boots clanked above him. Holden's gaze followed the ladder leading up to the flight deck. Alex stared back at him, gloved hands gripping the railing.

"Gonna check the damage outside skipper," Amos said, behind his usual blank smile.

Holden nodded his assent. He pushed himself off the deck and floated upward to where Alex stood.

"What did I say about questioning me during a fight?" Holden asked. He grabbed the rails and swung himself onto the deck, activating his own mag-boots as he did.

The Martian pilot raised his hands defensively. "We're supposed to be the good guys here, Cap. Didn't see the point in kickin' 'em while they were down."

Holden shook his head. "You realize if they'd been a _little_ more accurate, you'd be a bloodstain in your chair right now?"

Alex shrugged off the question. "Well, thanks to my flying they weren't."

"No one threatens me, my crew or this ship. We tried talking them down; they opened fire. We _are_ the good guys. The Belt has one less pirate in it because of _us_."

"As you say, captain," Alex replied, unconvincingly.

"I welcome debate. But in the middle of a fire fight, don't second guess me. Are we clear?"

"Quite _sir_ ," Alex replied, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Good. You're one of the best pilots in the 'verse Alex. But I need everyone on the same page. Now, I'm going to the galley. And there better be some coffee when I get there."

Holden stomped down the ladder and trudged his way out of the deck.

Alex stood where Holden left him. The captain's helmet drifted into the pilot's line of sight. He caught it in mid-air.

"Forgot your— "

The hatch shut loudly behind Holden.

"Okay then," Alex finished, spinning the helmet in his hands.

• • •

Holden entered the galley to the calming sight of the coffee maker, situated between the circular planters. Naomi leaned against the table, back turned. Without a helmet, her shock of black hair floated freely. She held a bulb of coffee in her hands, its rich aroma drawing Holden to her.

"We could have arrested them. They didn't have to die," she said.

Holden sided up to the brewer, designed to work in zero-G when needed. He detached a bulb from a nearby rack and locked it into place. The machine purred to life.

"They didn't have to choose piracy either."

A light flickered on the machine, indicating the bulb had been filled. Holden held the cup, letting it warm his palms. He brought it up to his nose, inhaled the coffee's earthy scent and closed his eyes.

"Ever since working for Fred, you've changed Jim. We've changed."

Holden turned to face Naomi, eyes cast upward at her. Having been born in micro-gravity, she was a head taller than him, with the elongated bones and thin frame of a Belter. Her gaze was distant, unfocused, as if remembering something.

"We're getting paid to keep the Belt safe. They got what they deserved."

"Do you remind yourself of someone?" Naomi asked.

She meant Miller, Holden thought. The detective that shot Dresden, leader of Protogen, in cold blood.

Holden brooded over the question, taking a sip of the coffee and letting it linger on his tongue.

Naomi stuck her mug to the magnetic table and folded her arms. "They were _kids_ , James! They were my people. Just desperate..."

"Yeah, well so are we. We're lucky to have Fred's support. I don't like being his enforcer any more than you do. But what choice do we have? Mars wants the Roci back; there's nothing for us on Earth, and the Belt's been in disarray since the Eros incident."

Naomi shook her head, locks of hair swaying with her movement. "We have an entire _system_ to ourselves. There's plenty of work out there. We don't have to serve Fred's whims. We don't have to compromise our values. I don't want you to become someone you're not. Someone I can't love..."

Something stirred in Holden. His lover's words began to effect him. He attached his bulb to the counter top and strode up to her. He wrapped his hands around the small of her back, losing himself in her soothing gaze. "Maybe you're right Naomi. Feels like we haven't had a chance to breathe since Eros. The pressure's gotten to us."

Naomi laid her palms on Holden's shoulders. "We have a chance now..."

The galley's ship wide comms panel spoiled the moment. It chimed incessantly, waiting for someone to answer it. Holden sighed in exasperation. He stomped to the wall mounted console and pushed the answer button.

"This is Holden."

"The bandits dinged her up something good, cap," Amos replied, voice tinny through the speaker. "Not much I can do till we get back to Tycho."

"That's fine Amos, come on back."

"Copy that."

Holden released his finger from the button and turned his attention to Naomi. "Now, where were we?"

Naomi smiled warmly. "I believe we were just about to go to my bunk."

_BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!_

"Damn it!" Holden yelled.

Naomi swore under her breath in Belter Creole, the unique patois spoken among most Belters.

Holden stomped back to the comms panel. "What now?"

"Coded tightbeam in from Tycho, Jim," Alex replied. "Sounds like Fred wants us home."

"Copy. Set a course for Tycho."

"You got it."

Holden smiled apologetically. "No rest for the weary."

Naomi returned the smile with a shrug. Holden left the galley and headed for the bridge. Thoughts ran through his mind, wondering what the boss had in store...


	2. Chapter 2

Holden looked over Alex's shoulder as he piloted the Rocinante toward Tycho; the largest mobile construction platform in the system. It served as the Rocinante's sanctuary for the last year. It was also the secret headquarters of the Outer Planets Alliance, led by their boss Fred Johnson.

A traffic controller appeared on the flight console's vid-screen. A faded Tycho patch adorned his blue jumpsuit. Holden guessed he was on third shift, given the man's drooping eyelids. He spoke into his headset with a heavy Belter accent.

"Rocinante, you're cleared to dock. Proceed to the transmitted coordinates," he said, with the disinterest of someone who repeated the same phrases a hundred times a day.

The controller flipped a switch, and the screen faded to black.

"Home sweet home," Alex said, grinning.

"Maybe we're getting shore leave. I could use some," Holden thought aloud.

"I hear that."

"And pay," Holden added.

"That too."

Holden gave Alex a pat on the shoulder. "Take her in, nice and easy. I'll check on the others."

"With pleasure, cap'n."

Holden descended the ladder to the ops deck. Amos and Naomi milled about, talking among themselves. Amos keyed some buttons on his hand terminal.

"Everything alright?" Holden asked.

"Filling out a requisition form for another torp," Amos replied. "Need a PDC refill too. And I told Sam her girl's gonna need repairs."

Holden nodded. "Sam" was Samara Rosenberg, chief engineer on Tycho, and her "girl" was none other than the Rocinante. The ship was jealously passed back and forth between her and Alex, as the situation warranted.

"The Roci will be docked for a bit," Holden admitted. "Enjoy the downtime while you can."

"Looking forward to it," Naomi replied.

"Gonna check on a few things. Meet you in the airlock."

The captain did some general maintenance on the ship. He inspected the armory's guns and munition stores, ran diagnostics and took inventory. In truth, he was distracting himself from the thought of having to debrief with Fred.

The two endured a fractious relationship. Holden still felt he had a right to know everything, but Fred kept things close to the vest. Holden tested the man's patience, determined to deal with him on equal footing. But Fred had the resources to keep the Rocinante going. As long as that was so, the OPA leader had the upper hand. It was a difficult balancing act, with a constant undercurrent of tension.

A dull ping reverberated through the ship; it had docked itself to the Tycho. Holden zipped up his flight suit, slung his duffle bag over his shoulder and rejoined the others.

• • •

Holden peered through the airlock window; a tube waited on the other side.

"Don't plan on hanging around too long," Holden warned. "Roci may just get patched up and we're out again, so behave yourselves."

"No promises," Amos said.

Holden feigned an admonishing look at the big man, who answered it with a cheese eating grin.

The captain opened the door for the crew and followed behind them. They came to a spacious repair bay. Flood lights hung on cross beams overhead. Workbenches and tool lockers lined the walls. Techs moved back and forth, working on bits of machinery. A faint motor oil scent hung in the air.

Samara stood in the middle of the bay, hands on her hips, draped in grease stained overalls. A tool-belt hung loose at her waist. Her heart shaped face put on its best angry look. Her flaming red hair added a nice touch. Her deep voice belied her svelte figure when she spoke.

"What'd you do to my baby this time?" she asked Alex, stabbing a finger at him.

"Whoa there, pardner," Alex said, "Take it up with the bandits, I just flew her."

Her green eyes squinted in suspicion. "Just full of excuses aren't ya?"

"Hey I got her back in once piece, ain't that worth somethin'?"

Samara's face softened. "Can't argue with that."

The chief engineer dropped the act and hugged Alex, laughing loudly enough to fill the room. "Git outta here, the grown-ups have to work," she said, tongue-in-cheek.

"Don't have to tell me twice," Alex replied. "Captain?"

"You heard the lady," he replied.

"I'll keep an eye on him for you, cap," Amos said.

"You'll keep an eye on me?" Alex asked.

"Well, yeah. Who else will bail you out of a bar fight?"

Alex paused for thought, as if recalling a previous event. "Fair point. Let's go."

Samara stifled a laugh and turned to Naomi and Holden. She strode up to the X.O., embracing her.

"Welcome back Knuckles," she said, using the nickname she gave her. Holden didn't know where it came from, just that it was an in-joke between them. He chose to leave it at that.

"Sam," Naomi replied warmly.

Holden listened politely as the two friends caught up, attempting to forestall the inevitable. He waited for a break in the conversation, after feeling he'd taken long enough.

"Naomi, I gotta meet with Fred."

"Want the boys and I to come with?"

"You know the drill. He talks my ear off, and I relay it back to you guys."

Naomi nodded.

"He in a good mood?" Holden asked Sam.

She waved an arm, as if to brush aside his concern. "Same ol', same ol'. Just tryin' to keep this whole mess together as usual. You'll be fine."

He touched her arm affectionately, as he walked by her. "Good to know. And be sure to take care of the Roci for us."

"Might as well. Ain't gonna trust my girl to anyone else, 'cept that crazy Martian of yours!"

Holden waved in response and as strode into the heart of the station.

• • •

The captain made his way to the bright lit corridors of the habitation ring. A couple young Belter girls strode by. He heard them chuckling from behind, probably joking about the Earther. A feeling of Déjà vu came over him. He swore he'd seen them the last several visits, around this time. It was one of many things he swore repeated themselves each trip back to Tycho.

He replayed the pattern in his head: Depart Tycho, hunt pirates, return home, debrief, drink at the same bar, sleep in the same quarters, collect pay (maybe), see the same faces, rinse and repeat. Something about it was just wrong. He felt a pang of nostalgia for the day the crew "legitimately salvaged" the Rocinante from its mother-ship the MCRN Donnager, and struck out on their own. He and the others hadn't risked everything just to become yes men for the OPA.

"This too shall pass," he thought, as he unlocked the door to his apartment.

He tossed his bag into a corner and flung himself onto his bed, letting the spin gravity press him into the plush mattress. Sleep began to overtake him, until his hand terminal vibrated and beeped from an incoming call.

"Oh come on!"

He ripped the terminal off his belt and accepted the call. He straightened at the sight of Fred Johnson's face on the screen. The leader's dark complexion contrasted with the soft hues of his office. His gravelly voice was no less intimidating as it blared through the terminal's mini speakers.

"Holden! Took you long enough to get here. Were you flying 'tea-kettle' the whole way back? And did you think the security cams didn't see you loitering around the repair bay? Get to my office."

Holden's hairs stood on end, his face flush with anger. "Now just you wait a minute, I—"

"And Holden," Fred interrupted, though in a much gentler tone.

"Yes?"

"Good job out there."

With that, Fred cut the transmission, leaving Holden with his mouth agape and confused. He sighed in exasperation, stuck the terminal back into his belt and stomped out of the room.

He entered into the corridor, to see the Belter girls staring at him with confusedly. As if to say, That Earther's not supposed to come back out of his room right now.

He shot them a grin. "Ladies."

They exchanged glances and chuckled to themselves as he headed toward Fred's office.

Did his reputation precede him? After all, he had broadcast himself to the whole system after the Canterbury's destruction. After he had mistakenly blamed Mars for the sudden, unprovoked attack on the ice hauler.

Perhaps they were his fans. Holden laughed off the thought and strode up to the office door. He took a breath, steeled himself and rang to enter...


	3. Chapter 3

Alex stared at his face in a Blue Meanie cocktail, as he sat in the Blauwe Blome bar. It didn't take long for Amos to run off with someone, leaving him to his lonesome. He absorbed himself in thought, waiting for the drink to work.

His mind went to the pirates the Rocinante wiped out. A cold sensation filled the pit of his stomach. Blood was on his hands. It was a difficult thing to accept.

He tried imagining the faces of the deceased. Considered what made them resort to crime. They had friends, lovers, families. And now they would never see each other again.

He brought the rim of the glass to his lips and took a sip. The next thing he felt was homesickness. A longing for his ex-wife Talissa. A bout of nostalgia overcame him, for the relationship's early days, when life was simple. He put the glass down with a clink, thinking about the future.

Maybe he'd work out more, lose some pounds. Perhaps do something about his thinning hair. Did he even want to stay with the ship? Holden was becoming a tyrant. Alex wondered if he could stand up to him if necessary...

"One Red Lotus please," a soft voice said next to him, in a familiar twang.

Alex turned his head to see the most beautiful woman he could remember (Rocinante's X.O. excepted of course). He straightened and sucked in his gut, desperately trying to look good. He wasn't used to being near someone so attractive. This was his chance.

The woman's golden brown fingers wrapped around the stem of her glass. Her oval, ruby red lips took a sip of the drink. Her free hand tucked an errant lock of black hair into place. When she turned to Alex, she glanced at him behind slender, chocolate brown eyes.

"Howdy," she greeted.

"Breach Candy," Alex blurted, suddenly feeling very embarrassed. "I mean, I can tell you're from Londres Nova too."

"I hope I recovered," he thought. "Damn it Kamal."

"You knew it. What gave me away?" she asked, smiling.

"Everything."

The woman laughed softly. "Name's Tan Lim, pleased to meet you."

"Alex Kamal, always happy to meet a fellow Martian."

"You work on Tycho?"

"I'm a...contract worker," Alex said. "Shuttle pilot."

"Really? I'm a pilot too. Fly with the independent light freighter Arsia Mons."

"Looks like we've got some things in common Tan."

"Yes, we certainly do. When I saw you sitting there, I couldn't help notice the long face. Everything alright?"

She looked genuinely concerned. Alex found it flattering. Someone he had just met, painfully out of his league, cared about him. Alex made light of it, giving an exaggerated you know how it is sigh at her.

"Long shift," he explained. "Love flyin'. But after so many milk runs, tends to tire you out."

"Right?" Tan replied, grinning.

About an hour later, and a couple more drinks, Alex and Tan became fast friends. He found himself wishing the night wouldn't end. His hopes were dashed when he caught Tan glancing at the clock on her terminal.

"Look at the time," she said. "Getting late. Got to ship out tomorrow. The freighter stops at Tycho often. Think we can do this again soon?"

"Bet on it. I'm here all the time, what with the contract work. I'll look for your ship in the registry. The Arsia Mons right?"

"That's the one."

Alex hoped for her number. He almost thought to ask, but didn't want to seem desperate. Better she offer it first, he figured. Alex felt his heart skip a beat as she gently touched his arm.

"Till next time, Alex."

"Next time Tan. Take care out there."

"You too," she said, as she left.

"Yes!" he gasped, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed. He looked around; no one seemed to notice. But in that moment, he wouldn't have cared. The bartender came to collect the glassware, when something caught his eye.

A golden coin sat on the tabletop. He picked it up an studied it. The letters MCRN wrapped around the top half. The words Fourth Transport Flotilla wrapped around the bottom. In the center was an outline of a Martian Navy cargo ship. The Martian Congressional Republic flag was engraved on the reverse side. The disc was perfectly smooth except for a small nick. It was a challenge coin, Alex realized.

Alex's first thought was she must have forgotten it. He pocketed the coin, paid his tab and rushed out of the bar. He looked in every direction, but she was nowhere to be found. He swore to himself. But there was still hope. He vowed to hold onto it. Alex saw many familiar faces in his visits to Tycho. He was confidant they'd cross paths again, and then he'd return the token...


	4. Chapter 4

Holden buzzed the door to request entry. It hissed open to reveal Fred Johnson, former U.N. Marine turned OPA leader. He beckoned Holden to come in. The captain took a seat in front of the thin, glass desk.

"Reporting as ordered," Holden said.

"Forgive me if we skip the pleasantries, time is of the essence."

"What's the situation?"

Fred leaned forward in his chair, folding his hands on the desktop. "First, let me suppose something to you. You're fighting an enemy of equivalent strength. One day, you notice their ships take more damage than usual. Their Epstein drives are more efficient. Repairs happen faster. Pilots tolerate high G maneuvers that would hospitalize or kill most. Lastly, their weapons are more lethal than before. What do you infer from this?"

The wheels turned in Holden's mind, but the answer came quickly to the former naval intel officer. "They've researched better weapons, juice, armor, optimized drives, maybe better tools. A war often leads to improved tech in order to gain an advantage."

"Precisely."

Fred slid an over sized personal terminal, designed for presentations, across the desktop. The computerized glass panel was barely visible against the surface, except for a metal rim around the screen. With some hand motions, Fred brought up a 3D map of Belt space. He zoomed in on a particular sector. When he raised his hands, the sector projected itself as hologram over the terminal.

"The Triton sector of Neptune," Fred explained. "Little is known about it, even today. Makes an ideal hiding spot. OPA pickets traced single use rockets on an unusual trajectory to the sector."

"Like the unmanned rockets that drop supplies to outposts on Pluto?"

"Yes, but these had no transponders. Their heat signatures also disappeared from deep scans after entering the sector. These rockets were being received by an undisclosed location."

Fred brought up another display; a diagram of Neptune and its natural satellites.

"Neptune has fourteen moons," he said. "I ordered a reconnaissance-in-force to survey each one, and what they could be hiding. A small fleet of my toughest OPA ships went in. Don't be offended. I thought to call on the Rocinante, but you were assigned elsewhere at the time."

"None taken."

Fred's eyes went downcast, and was silent for a beat. "Of all the ships I sent, one made it back," he continued. "But it was all we needed. It revealed a complicated network of heat signature masks, ECM devices and transmitters that broadcast misleading information to throw us off. In effect, it created a massive smoke screen to hide this..."

Another series of gestures centered the display on an irregularly shaped moon. Instead of having the usual sphere, it took on a cylindrical form. Attached to its surface, was a metallic dome. Large metal support beams protruded from the dome and clawed into the rock.

"This moon is Galatea. My best analysts confirm that the man-made structure here is a research and development lab. Its configuration is consistent with other R&D facilities through the system. Those superior ships I wanted you to imagine fighting? They're possible, and this lab wants to make them a reality."

Holden pondered the implications. "Who's backing this? Earth, Mars, an OPA faction?"

"I pulled all the strings to find out. Called in favors...made bribes, even threats. Every known OPA faction denies involvement. Moreover, nothing indicates a Terran or Martian presence. Believe me, if anyone from Earth or Mars went near the sector, we'd know. The construction, concealment and operation are all textbook Belter."

Holden mulled over the news. He opened his mouth to speak, when Fred held up a hand.

"Hold that thought, there's more. The recon group's hackers skimmed some data from the lab computers. All those improvements I described to you? They came at a cost. Better juice caused debilitating side effects. The new torpedoes can be flawed, exploding in their tubes. Improved Epstein drives get sudden magnetic bottle failures. The thicker armor may have structural problems, actually increasing vulnerability to enemy fire. What does all this suggest?"

Holden scratched his chin in thought. "That they're prototypes. Works in progress, not ready for mass production."

"Yes, that's my conclusion as well. This is a highly advanced research lab, creating military grade weapons, engines, alloys, juice and repair tools. We believe the lab is going to sell these things to the highest bidder. This has to be stopped soon. Once the technology is perfected, they'll be nothing keeping them from selling their secrets and opening a Pandora's box the world doesn't need now."

"This could lead to a new arms race," Holden said. "It would topple the balance of power, possibly leading to a system wide war..."

"That's exactly why this operation must be thwarted, and its data retrieved. It represents untold sums of credits, spent lives, scientific talent and Belt resources. It is key to countless civilian applications. Better juice, faster drives, mining explosives, better armor for ships and astronauts. The list could go on."

Holden's interest piqued. Ever the idealist, his mind raced with the implications of the new technology's potential. He leaned forward, determined expression on his face.

"Okay, what can these guys throw at us?"

"That's the good news. I said one only of ours made it back. But we hit them almost as hard. Unless something changed, the lab is down to a single warship. We've code named it the Faust."

Fred manipulated the terminal again, bringing up a schematic of the enemy ship. Holden recognized the design. Nevertheless, Fred explained it as the holographic model rotated on its axis.

"Standard medium freighter configuration," he said. "Minimum sixty-four crew capacity, two hundred-fifty meters long, Epstein drive equipped. You'll notice the usual cargo spheres were stripped. Note the thick cylinder of reinforced armor where they used to be. Additionally, the cylinder has enough hard points for a battery of PDC cannons and torpedo banks. A couple of well placed high yield missiles should be able to smash apart the hull. The trick is getting past its offensive weapons to deliver the killing blow."

Holden crossed his arms, sizing up the ship and analyzing how best to approach it. "No reinforcements on this one?"

"Afraid not," Fred replied. "I'm stretched thin, and we lost too many already. The surviving ship's damage was too extensive. Its going to be scrapped. Most of its crew is in intensive care. The Rocinante is the only asset I have left with the firepower to do this. Can I count on you?"

Holden sucked in a breath and let it out through his teeth. "Hate being this guy, but we've got to talk pay."

"Fair enough. The station's resources took some unexpected hits. Your pay for the last mission may not be coming right away."

"Fred..."

The OPA leader held up a hand. "I know, not what you want to hear. Complete the mission, and you'll be paid for the last job, plus twice the usual amount. I'll also have my best technicians keep the Rocinante equipped and repaired at the station's expense."

Holden did some quick calculations in his head. That would be the best payday the crew ever had in Fred's service. Not enough to retire on, but enough to live comfortably for some time. The only catch was they had to survive the job.

"It's a deal. Couple of questions."

"Shoot."

"The lab's cloaking network. We need to take it out?"

"Better to leave it intact. It provides cover not just for the lab, but for us as well. We don't want to draw attention to what's happening at Galatea. Far as anyone's concerned, nothing will have occurred there. When its all over, I'll have a clean-up crew take care of it. Next question?"

"The data. What happens if it's destroyed?"

"That's a good point. Its possible the researchers will purge it, if they think they'll lose it to someone else. However, they may not to that if they think they can win. If you find the research data in one piece, you know what to do."

"I'll brief my people first thing tomorrow."

"Sounds good. In short, destroy the Faust, infiltrate the lab, eliminate or capture the personnel, and bring back the data."

Holden got up from his seat. "Understood. We'll keep you posted."

"Until then," Fred said, returning to his tasks.

• • •

The next day, Holden explained everything he learned from Fred to the crew. Holden made the final checks on his suit, weapons and gear. He picked up his bag and left his quarters.

"Jim!" Alex called, from behind.

Holden turned to see the pilot running down the corridor toward him. "Alex," he replied. Eager to begin the mission, Holden didn't stop for small talk. The pilot sided up to him and spoke as they strode to the repair bay.

"Met this gorgeous girl the other night, cap," Alex gushed. "You've got to see her. She's smart, funny, charming. But she forgot this."

Holden paused to see what Alex referred to. He produced the challenge coin. Holden held it in the palm of his hand and studied it for a second, noting the notch in the otherwise perfect circle. "Left you a souvenir or something?"

"No, she forgot it," Alex replied, taking the coin back. "But we're going to run into each other again, I have a feeling. And when we do, I'm gonna return it to her."

"Happy for you Alex, she'll appreciate that. So let's get back to Tycho alive, right?"

Alex beamed ear to ear. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

The two entered the bay. They could see mechanics in spacesuits making the final repairs on the Rocinante through the viewing window. Samara spoke animatedly with two other technicians, keying a hand terminal as she did. She noticed Holden enter and gave him a reassuring nod and smile. Holden returned the gesture. He and Alex came up to Naomi and Amos, already prepared to embark.

"Okay people, we've been in worse. We know what to do. Ready?" Holden asked.

"Yes sir," Naomi said.

"Let's give 'em Hell, cap," Amos replied.

The four walked one by one through the air tube and into the frigate...


	5. Chapter 5

Alex took his chair, sinking into the gel padding. Only he truly felt the rush of so much steel, weaponry and force at his command. It empowered and humbled him at once. A rush went through him as he activated the flight controls. What made it even better, was the prospect of returning alive to see Tan again.

"Status report," Holden ordered, from his command station.

"Engines hot, captain. Weapon and ECM systems are green," Alex said.

"Ladar and radar online. Oxygen levels optimal," Amos said, at the sensors console.

"Signal strength to Tycho at one hundred percent. Wide and tightbeam emitters online. Encryption package online, " Naomi said, from the comms console.

"Alex, got that course plotted?"

"Yes sir. Ready to launch on your command."

"Let's move out," Holden ordered.

"Aye-aye." Alex pushed throttle forward.

The Epstein drive hummed to life, pressing him into his chair as it hurtled the Rocinante through the Black. The ship stepped up to four G's. Alex heard his crew mates labored breaths in his earpiece, as they endured the pressure on their bodies. They weren't going fast enough to need the juice; the cocktail of drugs and stimulants keeping them conscious during extreme G forces. But Alex knew it was coming. The only thing worse than the adrenaline pumping drugs, were the nauseating after effects.

A stretch of time passed, tension filled the air. The ship's drive worked hard; defying physics to traverse the vast distance of space. Alex clenched his muscles and regulated his breathing, as trained to all those years ago in the Martian Navy. He felt solidarity with the rest of team, knowing they were experiencing the same thing.

"Almost there kids," Alex said, with effort.

"S-start d-decel," Holden managed.

"Got it," Alex replied.

The pilot plunged his hand through the g-forces at his touch screen. He ordered the ship to slowly decelerate, keeping them from becoming red smears on the bulkhead. A whoosh sounded as forward thrusters countered the frigate's momentum. The invisible hand crushing into Alex began to lift.

"Visual on Galatea," Alex said.

"I see it," Holden replied. "Stay sharp. The Faust should be nearby."

Beads of sweat formed under Alex's trademark cap. He dragged his hand down his beard. If the enemy ship was near, the next few moments could be life or death. Alex read his displays, finger hovering over the fire button. The network of cloaking devices was still active, concealing the Faust's position.

Alex almost jumped in his seat, at hearing Naomi's voice.

"Jim, I can run a deep scan of the lab, though it might reveal ourselves. If the ship is near it, we might pick it up."

"Good idea Naomi, do it," Holden replied.

For a few long moments, there was nothing but the tap of buttons and purr of machinery. It reminded Alex of old submarine films we saw as a kid. It was hard to believe that much water existing anywhere, even as an adult. But he definitely related to the claustrophobic environment of a submarine. As well as the zero-sum game between opponents, and the certain death outside the hollow shells they operated in.

"We have movement!" Amos yelled.

"Faust confirmed, it was hiding behind the moon. Distance ninety-eight thousand kilometers, dead ahead. It's in attack position!" Naomi reported.

Following procedure, Alex activated a list of commands for the A.I. to execute, in the event he was unable to use the touchscreen.

"Four torpedoes inbound, wide spread pattern," Amos said.

Alex looked at his monitor. Four red dots spilled out from the Faust's outline. Each one represented a plasma tipped torpedo. They fanned out and streaked across the screen toward the Rocinante's icon. For a second, he doubted his sanity. The torpedoes were moving too fast to believe.

"Fire tubes one and two. Take emergency evasive action," Holden ordered.

"Two torpedoes away, emergency evasive action," Alex replied.

The Rocinante bucked two times, slinging its own torpedoes at the target. The only hope the ship had to defeat the missiles was in the point defense cannons or outmaneuvering them.

"I hate this part," Alex muttered.

Just then, several stings shot through his body. The chair's needles injected him with the harsh, but life saving drugs to endure near-fatal G-forces. Next came the feeling of ice water flow through his veins. He felt his heart pound in his chest, and his muscles tighten up. His stomach sank into his feet as the frigate twisted, turned and lurched in every direction. He fought through the stress and focused on his screens.

The unusually fast torpedoes came into PDC range. The ship's cannons unleashed a hail of high velocity tungsten rounds. Alex took in the frigate's analysis of the enemy torpedoes. They were equipped with their own thrusters and navigational computers. He knew they were calculating how best to move to evade the gunfire, as he watched them.

Alex felt an elephant sit on his chest, his tolerance of the G-forces pushed to the limit. The days of dog fighting pilots lining each other up in their sights were long gone. Now combat boiled down to so many computations, physics and luck. Human input was an afterthought.

The red dots danced across the screen, taunting the ship to stop them. One flickered out like a dying light. It had been hit. Three left, but it wasn't over yet.

Alex's labored breathing was all he could hear in his helmet. He watched the remaining torpedoes close in, helpless to do anything but trust in his ship. He resisted the urge to shut his eyes as the second torpedo came within striking distance. It flickered once or twice, then blinked out before impact. The frigate shook hard, a sickening crunch echoed through it.

"What just happened?" Holden said, through gritted teeth.

"Torpedo must have...broken up under the PDC fire. Hit by debris," Alex managed.

"Everyone alright?" Holden asked.

"I'm good," Amos said, with a nonchalance that disturbed Alex.

"Fine," Naomi forced out.

Alex divided his attention between read-outs, and the damage reports coming in. His jaw moved slowly with each word. Telegraphic speech was all he could manage.

"Shrapnel hit port side like shotgun blast. Machine shop, quarters, shredded. Damage code yellow."

"Last torps flanking us, can't take another. Do something!" Holden blurted.

The final torpedoes moved into a pincer attack. If nothing was done, they would finish off the frigate. The ship's computer ran out of ways to evade them, as the missiles closed the distance. Alex estimated the time and distance the torpedoes had to their target. The silence of the crew was deafening.

The next few seconds determined if they lived or died. The Rocinante would be hit, Alex realized. The only question was how badly, and by how many torpedoes. Hot tears stung the pilot, righteous indignation surging in him, angrier at the arresting G-forces than at the enemy. He screamed his frustration as he fought through the weight. He stabbed the touchscreen with a finger and swiped it to switch the A.I. off and throw the Rocinante into a 180 degree turn.

He visualized one of the torpedoes incinerated by the blinding light of the Epstein drive. His display indicated that's exactly what had happened.

Alex thought of Tan as he braced for the last torpedo. A cacophony of sirens and warning klaxons assaulted his ears. The Rocinante spun like a bottle from the hit. Red emergency lights flooded the deck, as the auxiliary power turned on. If the Faust narrowed the gap between itself and the frigate, and if hadn't been critically damaged, they were finished.

The thrum of the Epstein drive faded to nothing. The effects of the anti-G cocktail started washing off. The elephant got up from Alex's chest, but he was too shocked and exhausted to enjoy the relief. He couldn't hear or see the crew mates on the deck underneath him, but prayed they weren't dead or stroked out.

"Damage report," Holden managed weakly.

Alex breathed a pained sigh of relief that Holden was alive. Now just to hear the others. Alex slurred a reply that would almost be comical in any other situation.

"Amidships cannons wiped out, Boss. Torp punched a hole right through 'em. Storage and medical bays are slagged. Some damage to the reactor and cargo bay. Epstein drive still online, emergency powered. Looks like we're crawlin' home."

"Naomi, Amos, check in," Holden ordered.

"I think my insides are liquefied, but I'm here," Amos said.

"Good Jim..." Naomi gasped.

"Alex, I need a report. Did we get them?" Holden asked.

The pilot pulled up the record of Rocinante's torpedoes to the Faust. The enemy warship made a valiant effort, but couldn't make the extreme maneuvers the Martian naval frigate could.

The first torpedo sheared off the Faust's engine module, effectively crippling it. The second torpedo took out the lower half of the hull, knocking out the torpedo tubes. All the armament the Faust had left were its PDC turrets in the upper half of the hull.

"The Faust is retreating!" Alex said. "Its limpin' back to on thrusters. Torpedo bank wiped out. Their PDC guns out of range."

Alex had no doubt that if the enemy missile landed any higher, the crew would be dead.

"Alex, get us out of here. Naomi, inform Tycho of the situation. Tell them we're retreating for emergency repairs. Amos, do whatever damage control you can. Good job everyone. We won the battle, but not the war's not over." Holden said.

Alex smiled to himself, thrilled to live another day. He locked in a course back to Tycho, and slunk into his seat. Fatigue overpowered him, and his consciousness faded out...


	6. Chapter 6

Alex's eyes squinted under a bright light. He felt weightless, his body covered umder some soft material. His head swam, it was hard to think.

"Am I dead?" he rasped.

He heard a disembodied voice to left, a woman's. "Worse, you're experiencing juice withdrawal," she said plainly.

He sat up and groaned from the pain. His head throbbed, with a hangover-like sensation. He saw the outline of his body under the bed sheets. He was in one piece at least.

He turned to the source of the voice. The Terran woman wore a white, skintight singlet. Her blonde hair was done up in a top knot. She waved a medical scanner over him, taking readings. The interstellar medical symbol was emblazoned on her breast pocket. A metallic utility belt wrapped around her hourglass shape.

So he was in a hospital ward. Presumably Tycho's. The doctor gave him a pat on the shoulder.

"Relax, you're in Tycho's sic bay. I'm Doctor Karsten. You'll be happy to know you and your crew mates are fine."

"How long was I out?"

"About a day, station time. You and the others took the gravitational forces hard. Fred and his top officers reviewed the ship's recording. Frankly, we're surprised you guys are alive."

"Guess we're just some tough hombres," Alex said, smiling weakly.

"Indeed. Anyway, you and the others slipped in and out of consciousness on the way home. Captain Holden and Amos had a speedier recovery. Being from Earth, their bodies took the stress better."

"Naomi?"

"She's recovering quickly. My staff and I can't figure it out. Not to be too graphic, but if most other Belters went through that, their bones would be ground to dust."

"None too graphic at all," Alex replied, a hint of sarcasm.

Karsten chuckled. "Okay, maybe that was a little blunt. We've chalked it up to her excellent bone growth simulators. Fred sends his complements. Your handling of the battle will be the subject of many a space warfare lecture."

"Yay," Alex replied.

Karsten smiled and handed him a container of pills.

"This will numb the headache. I've determined you fit for medical discharge. But go easy. We need you back in fighting shape before long."

Alex took the container, twisted off the safety cap and swallowed a pill dry. "Doctor's orders."

"Doctor's orders," Karsten repeated.

Alex took a few moments to recover his strength. Eventually, he pulled himself up, got out of bed and found his footing. He changed out of his medical gown into a fresh jumpsuit. Then he collected his things from a storage container by the receptionist's desk, including a belt pouch. He clipped it to his tactical belt and stumbled out of the ward.

There was something he seemed to forget, but couldn't place what. He searched his mind, but it was still foggy.

Passers by gave him funny looks, because of his stupor. He ignored them, determined to remember what he was to do. Needing to rest, he flopped down on a bench, next to a station directory. His hand went idly to his pouch, ensuring everything was there. He pulled out Tan's missing coin.

"Tan!" he thought.

Finding a second wind, he sprang up with renewed vigor. He tore through corridors and levels, heading to the Blauwe Blome bar. If there was an infinitesimal chance to see her again, it as there. He skidded to a stop at the bar entrance, and looked into it. There were a few patrons, but no Tan. His heart sank. Having spent the last of his energy for awhile, he figured he'd take a seat there anyway.

He grabbed the same stool by the bar top as before. He supposed he'd better regroup with the crew. Figure out what to do next.

"Alex?" a familiar voice called.

He turned to see Tan at the entrance, dressed in a silk collared shirt and trousers. Her presence healed him more than any drugs could. He sprang out of his seat and hurried to her.

"Tan, I can't believe it!"

"Me either. My freighter just docked, so I ran straight here and hoped."

Alex fished for the coin and showed it to her. "You left this last time. I tried finding you, but it was too late."

Tan's eyes widened at the coin. "Alex, thank you so much. That means a lot to me."

Alex gave it back, grinning with satisfaction. "My pleasure darlin'."

Tan looked him up and down, concern on her face. "Look like you've been through Hell."

"I've really got to stop worrying you like this," he said, trying to sound jokey.

"Right? Guess this is where I ask you if everything's okay again," she said, laughing.

"I...had to burn hard to get a station VIP to an emergency meeting. Needed a little more recovery time than usual. The uh, location was confidential."

Tan shook her head. "Say no more, I know all about keeping confidentiality with clients."

"Much appreciated. Can I get you anything?"

"No thanks. The bar's nice, but I want to stretch my legs. Want to go for a walk?"

"Sounds lovely."

Alex and Tan walked arm in arm through the station, making conversation. There wasn't much to see, except the occasional shop, bar or club. Potted plants scattered around where practical, adding much needed greenery to the sterile environment. Alex swore some of them were even real.

"The florescent lighting sure is beautiful tonight," he said. "And the drones are out."

A quad-copter whirred overhead, to some destination.

Tan picked up on the tongue-in-cheek tone, laughing softly. "How'd you get so funny?"

"Can't survive long in a confined space with the same people every day without humor."

Tan nodded. "I know all about that, heh."

They stopped at a balcony overlooking a lower level. They people watched in companionable silence.

"So, you did your time in a transport fleet?" Alex asked. All Martians had to serve a term in the military.

"Not very glamorous, I know."

"Hey, don't feel bad. I was a glorified bus driver. Trucked marines here and there. Put in some tours, before honorably discharged. Stayed busy with an ice hauler after that. Then somehow I wound up doing contract work for Tycho, been here ever since."

Alex felt a little terrible inside, for not being entirely truthful about his past. But he knew the dangers of telling the truth. He considered it a gray lie, and forced it from his mind.

"Guess we think alike," Tan replied. "Spent a lot of time flying the same runs over and over. Could have gone career if I wanted. Guess I just wanted to see the rest of the system."

"I hear that."

After a beat, Tan broke the silence. "Hey, we're actually right near my place. Want to come in?"

Alex's heart leaped in his chest, his breath felt short. He felt like a schoolboy again, but forced himself to stay calm. "Yes, yes I would," he said, putting on his warmest smile.

Tan returned it, leading him to her quarters by hand.

Tan's quarters greeted Alex with a floral scent. Like most living spaces on a station, it was minimalist and spartan. Tan opened a cabinet and took out a tall bottle, filled with an amber liquid. She set it on a counter top, by two small glasses. She poured a little in each, and handed one to Alex.

"Scotch, imported from Earth," Tan said proudly.

Alex's eyes went wide at the precious liquid. The amount in his glass alone would cost more than his month's income. "I'm not worthy."

Tan glanced at him amorously. "Tonight you are. To us."

He clinked his glass with hers, in quiet disbelief that this was happening. He downed the glass in a gulp, and let the strong drink warm over him. Feeling emboldened, he set down the glass and got closer to Tan. She looked up at him longingly. Feeling no more words were necessary, he led her to the bed.

Her eyes locked onto his, with devastatingly cute look. He helped her out of her silk shirt. He loosened his grip on the garment, letting it fall to the floor. He stopped cold at the sight of medical gel smeared over her shoulder, mending some grievous wound. The worst of it was obscured by fresh bandaging.

"Tan, what hurt you?"

"I'm sorry Alex. I almost said something, but didn't want to ruin the mood. There was an accident on the Arsia Mons, a chemical fire. I was burned helping to put it out. But I'll be okay. I understand if you don't still want to..."

Alex hugged the small of her back. "No, I want to. I very much want to."

Tan looked pleased, her eyes misting over with emotion. She pulled him onto the bed sheets...

• • •

Alex woke first. Tan slept, head rested on his shoulder. He lay in the bed, savoring the moment, hoping it would last forever. His hand terminal beeping softly. He eased himself out of bed, made his way to the kitchenette and answered it. It was Holden.

"Jim, what's up?"

"What do you mean what's up? We've been searching the station everywhere for you. Did you forget the mission?"

Alex held up a finger and shushed him. "Alex?" Tan called, from the other room.

"Aah, I get it," James replied. "You don't waste any time do you?"

"Holden!"

"Okay, okay. We brief with Fred in five, need you there. Cleaned up and get your butt to the conference room."

The captain abruptly cut the call, jolting Alex back to reality.

Tan leaned against the doorway, clothed in a night robe. She suppressed a yawn and wiped the sleep from her eyes. "Everything alright?"

"I want to stay," Alex blurted, the first thing coming to his head. "I really do."

Tan walked up to him and squeezed his arm. "I know, I want you to stay too. But you got a job to do don't you?"

"I do, an important one. It was great while it lasted, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was. Wait one minute."

She retrieved her hand terminal and came back. Her finger deftly swept across the touchscreen. She made a pointing gesture toward Alex's terminal, transferring information from her device to his. Alex looked down at his terminal. She had given him her contact number. Alex did the same.

"So, see you again?"

Tan hugged him and patted his broad chest. "Bet on it."

Alex headed to the door, turning to see her one last time.

"Good luck out there," Tan said.

"You too."

Alex exited the quarters and ran toward the conference room.


	7. Chapter 7

Holden sat by Naomi at the conference table, obligatory coffee in hand. Amos reclined in his chair, lost in thought. Fred talked to some assistants, occasionally pointing to a portable terminal. A door hissed open to reveal Alex, rushing to a seat.

"Mister Kamal," Fred said. "How nice of you to join us."

"Never one to miss a party, sir," he said.

Fred dismissed the assistants and tapped on the terminal. A hologram of the Rocinante appeared above the screen. Holden grimaced at the amount of damage. It was like a roadside accident. Something tells you not to look, but you can't resist. Temporary steel casing, painted with black and yellow caution lines. Covered the hull's worst damage.

"I'll start with the positives," Fred said. "Midships PDC's were replaced. Took all hands and extra shifts, but the drive's restored. Furthermore, we fixed up the machine shop, quarters and cargo hold."

Fred zoomed on the storage and medical bays. The construction casing faded out to reveal their interiors. Aside from some preliminary repairs, the sections were burnt out husks.

"Bad news is we need to rebuild the storage and medical bays. No time for that now. You won't have an autodoc for awhile. Plan accordingly."

"Any idea what the lab's been up to since we left the sector?" Holden asked.

Fred nodded. "I tapped some OPA affiliated rock hoppers desperate for credits. We retrofitted their ships with small cannon and had them blockade Galatea. Nothing gets in or out. The situation on the ground is pretty much the same as you left it."

"And the fate of the Faust?" Naomi asked.

In response, Fred shrank the Rocinante from view, and brought up a mew hologram. This time it was a grainy image of Galatea. The enemy ship hugged the ground next to the lab.

"Surveillance sent us this photo of the Faust. With no drive and under blockade, its become a fixed anti-aircraft platform."

"Reckon we can slag it easily enough," Alex declared.

"Don't get cocky. Their PDC's still pack a punch. The Roci's anti-spalling armor only goes so far," Fred warned.

"We know," Holden replied, recalling how it saved the crew at the battle of Thoth Station.

Fred shrunk the image back into the terminal. "You know what to do. Return to Galatea and finish off the Faust. Then infiltrate the lab and neutralize any resistance. Lastly, retrieve the data and anything else we can use. If you need to touch base with the blockade, contact Watchdog One."

"Can we have call signs too?" Amos asked.

Fred, Naomi, Holden and Alex stared at him with Are you serious? looks.

"Doesn't hurt to ask," Amos said.

Fred cracked a smile, despite himself. "Move out. And get your asses back alive. That's an order."

• • •

The Rocinante hurtled toward Galatea It flipped its orientation en route, so its stern faced the moon. Alex would land the frigate vertically, as it was designed to do.

A web of armed mining crafts enveloped the moon; their icons appearing as blue arrows on Holden's screen.

The captain transferred the comms to his station.

"Uh...Rocinante to Watchdog One, come in," he said.

A video feed on Holden's station revealed a young, helmeted Belter. The rock hopper sat in the cramped cockpit, looking right at home. His suit was well worn; tribal tattoos ran down his lean face. He grinned at Holden, peppering his speech with Betler Creole.

"Oye, bosmang kapawu. We been waitin' for you. ˈRedē to fini da meshang, ya?"

"That's the plan," Holden said. "Anything to report?"

Watchdog looked sheepish for a second. "Cargo shuttle slipped through da blockade, Boss. Üzgün, sorry. Weaved right through our fire, then docked wit da lab."

"Don't worry about it. If they take off, you can try again."

The Belter put his index and middle finger together and double tapped the opposite side of his chest; a Belter gesture of respect. "Appreciate it, bosmang."

"No problem, we'll take things from here. Rocinante out."

"Landing coordinates locked in," Alex reported. "PDC's armed and ready."

The Rocinante's engines roared, as descended to Galatea's surface. Anti-aircraft rounds filled the sky, aiming for the frigate.

"Enemy fire incoming," Naomi reported.

The Rocinante dodged most of it. A few rounds scraped the port-side, causing superficial damage.

"Stop. Hurting. My. Baby!" Alex growled.

The pilot swiveled the PDC's downward, unleashing them on the Faust. Holden watched as the storm of tungsten slugs pelted the ship. One by one, the Faust's cannons were pounded into dust. The streams of enemy rounds lessened, until stopping altogether.

"Sorry to drop in like this," Alex quipped.

The Rocinante shuddered as it touched the ground. Robotic landing gear extended from the lower end of the ship, stabilizing it. The frigate towered over the battered, but still operable Faust.

Alex didn't need to be told what to do. There were no wisecracks as he trained the cannons onto the Faust. Silence filled the decks except the brrrt, brrrt, brrrt of the cannons firing into their target.

Holden looked on as the Faust crumpled like a tin can. When the deed was done, the warship was reduced to a heap of jagged, twisted steel.

"Okay people, lock and load. We're going in," Holden said, shutting down his console and rising from his seat.

With the storage deck off limits, the crew kept their weapons by their stations. Holden retrieved an assault rifle, clicking a cartridge into place. Amos took his signature shotgun. Fighting wasn't Alex's forte, but could handle a weapon if needed. He slid a clip into a high powered handgun and holstered it.

Holden looked to Naomi. "I know how you feel about violence," he said. "I'll understand if you don't want to go. You'll be safe here."

"I should come with you. Can't just stand by while you run into danger. I can help. The data will likely be encrypted. I might be able to hack it. The information's no good if we can't access it."

"Alright, but stay behind us."

Naomi nodded. She grabbed a laptop-sized piece of equipment with a strap. She slung it over her shoulder and stood by.

Holden, Amos and Alex took a couple of frag, stun and smoke grenades. Alex grabbed a pack of medical supplies and slung it over his back. The crew checked each other's armored suits and gear until satisfied everything was alright.

The ship's main elevator was still operational. The team took it down to the lower airlock, where Holden activated a ramp. The steel platform unfurled itself onto the moon's surface. The dome-shaped laboratory faced them, crab-like with its support arms splayed across the ground.

The team clanked down the ramp, weapons at the ready. They tread carefully; mini-jets of pressurized air keeping them on the ground as they neared the dome. Holden didn't like the quiet. No outer defenses seemed strange.

They came up to the entrance door. Holden pushed the only button on the control panel by it. It let out a rude beep in response. An ominous feeling came over him.

"Of course it's not that easy," Holden thought aloud.

"I'll see if I can crack it," Naomi said.

She strode up to the door and connected her device to the control panel. Holden watched her work as she ran a hacking program to bypass the lock. After an impossibly long moment, the panel let out a soft tone and door whirred open.

"Okay good. Fall back," Holden said.

Naomi detached the device and backpedaled away from the door. Holden and Amos spilled through the entrance, sweeping their guns side to side.

"Lights on," Holden said.

Everyone switched on the shoulder mounted flashlights attached to their suits.

The area was a spacious corridor. There was no one in sight. It looked surprisingly clean. Maybe Holden had seen too many horror movies, almost expected to see ooze or blood clinging to the walls. Instead, they were covered in foamy white padding. Segmented metal coils ran down the length of it. The armor's lighting only went so far. The hall's opposite end was shrouded in darkness.

They walked a little farther, stopping at a group of crates on either side of them. Each group was stacked about waist high. Seeing no obvious trap, they moved up to the crates.

"I don't like this, cap," Alex said. "Where's the welcoming committee?"

As if on cue, a mechanical whine sounded from the ceiling. An automated gun turret descended from a compartment, aiming for the team...


	8. Chapter 8

"Take cover!" Holden yelled.

Naomi hit the ground, behind the crates. Even with her helmet on, she heard the turret scream, raining bullets onto the floor. A coppery taste filled her mouth, after nearly being cut down.

"Can't reach it with my shotgun," Amos said.

"Holden, can you shoot over the crates?" Alex asked.

"And risk the turret shredding my only weapon?" Holden replied.

Alex snapped his fingers in sudden recognition. "Frag grenades."

The pilot reached for one, when Holden stopped him. "Wait. Don't throw it just so the turret can shoot it in mid-air."

"Block its line of sight with a smoke grenade?" Naomi asked, almost exasperated she thought of it first.

"Knew it was a good idea to bring you," Holden said, smiling.

The captain took a grenade, pulled the pin and rolled it across the floor. Before the turret could aim for it, white smoke flooded the area.

"Frag out!" Amos said, tossing an explosive grenade over the crate.

Naomi stayed low, listening to the grenade rattling to its target. She felt the muffled explosion through her helmet. The blast had cleared away the smoke. She peered over the edge of the crates, seeing the turret was destroyed.

"Okay people, gun's down. Keep moving," Holden ordered.

Even as adrenaline coursed through her, Naomi reflected on the sadness of being in another war zone. Worse, she was fighting her own people. Not for the first time, she wondered if this was how she would die. She contemplated why of all the possibilities, she had been forced into so much violence. Her former life with Jim on the Canterbury felt like a hundred years ago.

She pressed on defiantly, determined to live through this latest obstacle. When it was over, she vowed to return to Tycho and spend every moment with Jim she could.

The team came to the end of the corridor, ending in a door. Holden and Amos leaned against the wall. Holden motioned for Alex to go prone. The pilot did so, training his pistol on the doorway.

"Naomi, on me," Holden said.

She ran up to Holden, and pressing herself flat against the bulkhead.

"Anything on the other side of this wall, you empty your clip into it," Holden said to Alex.

"You got it, hoss," Alex said.

Holden pressed the door's button. It slid open to silence. The captain looked to Alex.

"It's clear," Alex confirmed.

"Well, that was anticlimactic," Amos said.

"I'm on point. Amos, cover me," Holden replied.

"Copy," Amos replied.

Alex got up and followed behind Holden and Amos. Crouching low, in spite of her Belter height, Naomi slipped through the door, bracing herself for what came next. Holden held up a fist, signaling for the team to stop.

"Looks like we've got an intersection," Holden said.

Naomi studied the area. They were in another corridor, like the one before. But now there were two passages halfway down, leading left or right. Just before the intersection, were rows of steel drums. If necessary, they would make suitable cover.

"So, betting there's something or someone waiting to ambush us from the sides," Holden supposed.

"That would be my guess," Amos replied.

"Flash bangs?" Alex suggested.

Holden nodded. "I know you're not one to fight, Naomi. But can you throw one with us?"

"Yes," Naomi replied, resigned to having to participate in the fight.

Everyone took a stun grenade.

"Amos, you and I will throw left. Alex, Naomi, throw yours right. On three. One...two...three!"

Naomi steeled herself and tossed one around the right corridor. A few rounds of gunfire echoed down either passage. Two loud cracks echoed through the chamber, as the flash bangs exploded.

"Fire at will!" Holden yelled.

Naomi crouched low and covered her ears, even though the helmet suppressed most of the noise. She heard Amos's shotgun, Holden's automatic rifle and Alex's pistol all firing. Sounds of their voices came through her earpiece.

"Reloading," Alex declared.

"Need another magazine," Holden said.

"Two down!" Amos reported.

The shootout seemed to last forever, until the firing stopped at last. When she could bring herself to do it, she opened her eyes, praying her people were unhurt.

Amos crouched down against the wall unscathed, holding his shotgun to his chest. Alex knelt as well, breathing hard and gripping his pistol tight. Holden released an empty clip from his rifle, and loaded another, with military precision.

"Ammo?" Holden asked.

"A few rounds left," Amos said.

"On my last clip," Alex replied.

"Couple of mags for me. Shit, Fred's going to be pissed if we retreat again," Holden said.

Amos jerked a thumb down the corridor. "The dead guys don't need their guns or ammo anymore."

"This is true," Holden said, looking a bit embarrassed not to have thought of that. "Alex, Amos, go ahead and—"

Before he finished, the door at the end of the corridor opened.

At first, Naomi thought the Belter man emerging from it wore powered armor. If true, they were good as dead. Naomi's mind went into overdrive, analyzing the opponent stalking near them.

It was a full suit of armor, but...improvised. The outer shell looked salvaged from scrap metal and junkyard parts. Various bits and pieces protruded from the shoulder pads and fishbowl helmet. For obvious reasons, the suit was tailored to fit the tall, slender Belter.

Naomi peered into the glass face plate to see the man inside. She surmised he was a more genteel Belter, the kind that lived on Ganymede. There were no tattoos. His face was fuller than average. He grew a close shaven, salt and pepper beard, and had a receding hairline.

He glared wild-eyed, through square shaped lenses, but not corrective ones. These were wearable computers. They looked laughably anachronistic; augmented reality glasses were largely replaced by cybernetic implants. He raised an arm, equipped with a wrist-mounted, tri-barreled gun. Her observations were interrupted by a command from Holden.

"The barrels, take cover!"

Once again, she threw herself onto the surface.

The armored man screamed in anger, firing the compact Gatling gun. Sharp pinging reverberated through the area, as rounds bounced off the thick metal containers.

"What the hell is that?" Alex blurted.

"Who cares, just kill him!" Amos yelled.

"Why us?" Holden murmured. He peered over the barrels for a clear shot, emptying his rifle into the man. Naomi couldn't help but watch with fear and admiration. She looked to see if the rifle had any effect. The enemy staggered backward, taking minor damage, but not enough to be taken out.

"Alex, suppressive fire!" Holden ordered. "Amos with me, take a corner."

Alex got up and fired until his gun clicked empty. The high velocity rounds kept the armored soldier off balance, buying time to close the distance. Amos and Holden crossed the intersecting corridors, using their corners for cover. Alex holstered his gun and sprinted toward Holden. Naomi started to move. But the armored man, covered behind his own barrels, lifted his gun to fire.

Naomi ducked behind her barrier. Jim's voice came through her earpiece.

"Naomi, I'm throwing a smoke grenade. When its safe, run to Amos, understand?"

"Y-yes," Naomi said.

Holden threw the grenade, laying down a smoke screen. Naomi ran with all her might to Amos.

"Last magazine loaded," Holden said.

"Out of armor piercing rounds," Amos said.

"I'm out," Alex said.

Naomi switched on her helmet's external speaker.

"We don't have to do this. We can talk," she said.

Holden looked at her like she had lost her mind. But she paid no attention. To her, and perhaps the group's surprise, the armored man spoke into his own microphone. The voice was lighter and more nasal than she imagined.

"You killed my people!" he shouted. With no Belter accent in his voice. "You destroyed the Theseus, you attacked my base, and now you want to talk!?"

The rest of the team switched on their own speakers. "The Theseus?" Holden asked. "Oh, he must mean the Faust."

"You called my battleship the Faust?" the man said, almost more insulted by that than anything else.

"Yeah," Amos replied. "After the legendary German erudite who sold his soul to the Devil for unlimited knowledge. Inspired by the historical Johann Georg Faust, and the basis of many literary works."

Naomi, Alex and Holden stared open mouthed at Amos, shocked that the brutish man would know something like that.

"What?" Amos said, shrugging. "I read sometimes."

"Can we know your name?" Naomi said, turning back to the situation at hand.

"For the short remainder of your lives, you can call me Doctor Sauer."

"Just tell us why. The secrecy, the lab. These projects. What was your plan?" Naomi asked.

"To free the Belt, what else? My discoveries would change the balance of power in the entire system. I just needed more time. Once perfected, I'd sell them to the OPA factions. Together we'd take the fight to Earth and Mars and win independence! You're a Belter, you should understand this. Why are you with those Squats, and that Duster?"

"Them's fightin' words," Alex said, referring to the derogatory terms Sauer used to describe Terrans and Martians.

"It's not too late, doctor," Naomi said. "Turn yourself in, we can protect you."

"Die!" Sauer shouted.

The doctor came from behind the barrels, firing off three shots, until a click sounded. The barrels slowed to a stop. Sauer looked at his gun in disbelief, not expecting to run out of ammo so soon.

Naomi felt a burning in her upper arm. She pressed her hand to the spot and looked at it; there was blood. She had been shot. She looked to Amos, who noticed the wound, his face reddening with anger. Then turned to Sauer. The doctor pressed a button on his forearm. He opened the door behind him remotely. He ran toward it.

Holden took some shots at the armor, but the bullets bounced off. Amos ran down the corridor. The door was halfway closed, when Sauer ducked under it. Amos rolled just before it slammed shut.

"Amos no!" Naomi yelled.

"Don't worry about him. He'll take care of himself," Holden said.

"It's not Amos I'm worried about..." she replied.


	9. Chapter 9

Amos's mind tricked him into smelling cordite and smoke, even though they weren't there. An effect of being in so many gunfights, he supposed. His eyes scanned the darkened room. A computer mainframe was set into the wall, its many lights blinking. A brick shaped device stuck out of the bottom center of it; a high capacity portable drive. Sauer was all that remained between Amos and the data.

The doctor stood there, watching Amos nervously. He braced himself for a coming fight. If Amos could see his own face, it'd look like a serial killer's; a cold, lifeless stare. His lips twisted into a sardonic, humorless smile. He clenched and opened a fist repeatedly. A throbbing pounded in the corner of his skull. He stalked his way toward the Belter, shotgun strapped to his shoulder.

With frightening speed, Amos delivered a vicious blow to Sauer's chest. The doctor tried blocking it, but was too late. He stumbled back, trying to keep his fists up. Desperate, Sauer countered with a few punches of his own. Amos blocked each one, counterattacking with his own jabs.

The mechanic's anger reached a crescendo. He grabbed Sauer in a choke hold and slammed him to the floor with a loud thud. Amos's eyes went naturally wide, as he stomped the Belter. Sauer screamed in a high pitch that was almost comical.

"S-stop, stooop!" the doctor begged.

With gritted teeth, Amos lifted him up and rammed him into the bulkhead. A sickening crack sounded as his face plate splintered. The mechanic turned Sauer around and punched the face plate until it shattered into pieces. The only thing that saved Sauer's eyes from the broken glass were his VR lenses.

Overcome with adrenaline, and desperate to defend himself, Sauer whaled on Amos. With all his strength, Amos ignored the strikes and kicked the doctor's knee. His leg bent at an unnatural angle, and he slumped to the floor. Amos looked over the suit. There was a bulky compartment in the chest. His expertise told him it was probably the power supply. He grabbed his shotgun.

"D-don't s-shoot," Sauer stuttered.

Taking the butt of the shotgun, Amos struck the compartment. It cracked open to reveal several colored wires. He grabbed the wires in a fist and yanked them, causing small sparks to fly. Sauer's limbs convulsed for an instant before freezing in place. The doctor was trapped in his own armor, immobilized. Amos stepped back a few paces and caught his breath, satisfied with the damage he had done. He twisted his helmet off, breathing the stale oxygen in the room. He wiped the sweat from his shaven head.

Sauer looked at Amos with a mix of fear and confusion. The mechanic paced back and forth around the room like a caged animal.

"Volkov-Batra type space lab," Amos said. "I know the kind. Had an apprenticeship on Luna once. They made mock-ups of these. Had us practice repairing and maintaining them, you know?"

Sauer was speechless, breathing hard, streams of blood ran down his face from cuts.

"Thing is, these lab designs were made to be built cheap. And that means cheap materials. Funny how far people are willing to go to cut expenses. Like with these heating pipes here."

Amos put his foot on the pipe's wall for support, grabbed the pipe in both hands, and ripped it off.

One end was jagged, where it had been torn. The piece was about as long as Amo's arm. He walked up to the helpless doctor.

"You hurt Naomi. I don't like people that hurt Naomi."

The mechanic knelt down to get closer to the doctor, holding the jagged end of the pipe up close.

"I'll never let anyone take my life's work from me," Sauer rasped.

Amos shook his head. "You're done, it's over."

Sauer smiled weakly, with his bloodied teeth. "Back-up battery."

Amos heard a buzz sound from the doctor's right arm, followed by a thwip. A steel knife jutted from his forearm. The doctor delivered a savage hook, aiming the blade for Amos's neck. If Amos had been a fraction slower, the knife would have penetrated his armor and throat. Instead, Amos caught the knife arm with his free hand. Then, he plunged the jagged pipe through Sauer's carotid artery. Blood gushed from the wound. The doctor's throat gurgled for a few seconds, before the life drained out of his eyes.

The door to the room opened. Amos looked in its direction, as it slowly revealed the rest of the crew. A bandage wrapped around Naomi's wound. She held her hacking device in one hand. Apparently, she had used it to bypass the door. A look of horror struck her face at the scene.

"Amos...why?" Naomi said.

"I had to kill him, Naomi," Amos said, apologetically. "I'm sorry...I had to."

She looked down at the knife protruding from the doctor's forearm, then back up at Amos, her eyes glistening.

Amos's grip slackened on the pipe. It floated to the floor in the weak gravity, landing with a clank. The burly mechanic stepped back from the shocked crew, almost expecting to be reprimanded. The mechanic picked his helmet up and twisted it back into place. He went to a corner of the room, almost as if he was a child being punished.

For the first time in a long time, Amos felt a twinge of shame. Naomi looked stricken at the sight of the gruesomely slain Belter.

"Alex, I need you to take care of this," Holden said, waving to the dead Sauer. "Get him out of here."

The pilot haplessly began hauling the corpse away. Amos stood motionless, watching Holden and Naomi. The captain squeezed her arms gently.

"Naomi, I need you to focus. There's the computer," Holden said, pointing to the mainframe. "And that must be the drive, there. It's probably going to be protected. Can we rely on you to hack the computer and unlock the drive for us?"

"Y-yes, Jim. Just give me some time."

She walked to the computer, and plugged the hacking device into it.

"Amos," Holden said.

The mechanic faced the captain, lost for words.

"Fred wanted us to look for anything to salvage. Let's scope around. Find whatever we can carry back to the Roci."

"Understood," as all Amos could manage.

Familiarized with the lab's layout from his apprenticeship, Amos led Holden through the interior of the laboratory. To their relief, there were no surviving personnel or traps. There were however, about a dozen portable chests. A cursory glance into some of them revealed suits, small arms, ammunition, and mobile devices. Satisfied they would be worth something, Amos and Holden began carrying them into the computer room.

"We're almost done," Naomi declared.

After a couple minutes, Naomi disconnected her device from the computer. She carefully slid the drive out of its socket. Naomi picked up the drive by its handle.

"Good to go," she said.

By this time, Alex entered the room, his grisly task completed.

"Alex, Amos, help me grab as many of these chests as you can. Naomi, just get the drive back safe and sound," Holden ordered.

The team filed out of the lab. They stowed the chests and drive in the Rocinante's ops deck. Alex started the pre-flight checks. Naomi began warming up the consoles. Amos was just about to climb the ramp, when he stopped at hearing Holden speak to someone through his helmet.

"Good to hear it Watchdog. We're returning to be base. Holden out."

"What's up?" Alex asked.

"The blockade. They caught that cargo ship trying to leave and blasted it out of the sky. That should hopefully be the last of them."

"Huh," Amos replied. "Good."

"Yep, let's move out."

The two silently walked up the ramp and into the frigate.


	10. Chapter 10

The Rocinante docked at its usual repair bay. The crew spilled into the area, greeted by its usual sights and smells. Sam approached them, eyes half closed from tiredness. Her usual smile was there, but the typical banter was in short supply.

"Scratch her up again?" she asked Alex.

"Just a tad," the pilot replied. "I'll help patch her up for ya."

"Tickled to hear it," Sam said. "You can start by scrubbing the scorch marks off the hull."

Alex's jaw dropped open. "I was kidding."

"Not anymore. You have any idea how busy me and my crew's been?"

Without waiting for a reply, she stuck a powered cleaning tool in his hands, and turned him around.

"Alright, alright," Alex murmured, as he was nudged toward the frigate.

Holden looked around the room; Fred stood by the exit, arms folded and waiting expectantly.

"I'll take it from here, Naomi," Holden said. "You should get to the sic bay for treatment."

"Yes, captain," Naomi said.

"Amos, find some orderlies to help you take the chests to storage."

"Got it," the mechanic replied.

Holden waited as Fred walked across the length of the repair bay to meet him. The captain handed the drive to the OPA leader.

"Excellent job, captain," Fred said. "You'll be happy to know your pay has been transferred."

"Thank you, Fred."

"Suppose I should be thanking you. This information is priceless. I'll have you sort out the salvage. Then you can meet me in my office for debriefing."

"Sounds good."

• • •

Before long, Holden found himself in one of Tycho's depots. Amos was behind from him, rifling through his own crates. Holden came to his last one. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. He grabbed the last item; a folded singlet. When he lifted it out of the box, something shiny caught his eye in the corner. He picked it up an saw it was a golden challenge coin. It had a familiar notch that Alex's missing coin had; it was unmistakably the same one.

No, it couldn't be, Holden thought. And yet he couldn't deny it. A cold feeling gripped his stomach. His mind raced to make sense of it. How could this be? Had she been one of them?

"Well I'm through here," Amos said. "You find anything?"

"No," Holden said, casually as possible. "Just a bunch of random crap."

He pocketed the coin and nonchalantly closed the crate.

"Yeah, same. Mind if I take off, cap?"

"No, go ahead."

Holden waited until Amos left the room, trying to process what he saw. As difficult as it was, he pushed aside the thought and went to Fred's office.

• • •

Holden stood in office doorway. Fred poured over the lab data on his hand terminal. When he spoke, Holden wasn't sure if he was thinking aloud or speaking to him.

"These findings are impressive. Not enough to win an entire war, perhaps. But enough to turn the tide of a battle. Sometimes, that's all it takes," Fred said.

After a few seconds, he turned the terminal off and motioned for Holden to sit.

"Start from the beginning, if you please," Fred said.

The captain recounted everything that happened, leaving out the part about the coin.

"Well, its a shame you couldn't bring Sauer back alive," Fred said. "But the data is what matters. My clean-up crew has been dispatched to dismantle the cloaking devices. The rock hoppers received their credits and are going home."

"Fred, I've thought about how best to get the findings out to the major comm networks."

Fred smiled apologetically. "I'm afraid that won't be happening."

"What are you talking about? This research could improve countless lives across the Belt, across the system. People should know about this!"

"That's too dangerous, Jim. The system's not ready for this yet."

Holden shook his head. "I was so naive. I should have known. Should have known you'd keep this to yourself."

"The system is in a precarious position, as if I have to tell you. Tensions are at an all time high. If we broadcast the data for the world to see, it would inevitably fall into wrong hands. Peoples lives would be improved for a short time. But the knowledge would be abused before long. We simply can't afford that right now."

Holden pointed a finger at Fred. "So you have the right to keep this to yourself? You decide who benefits from this data?"

"Yes Holden, I do. There will come a day when the system is in its darkest hour. When billions of people need these advancements the most. But its not now. A handful of others and myself, are all that keeps the system from tearing itself apart. Its safest under my purview.

Think about it. How would other OPA factions use this information? The Voltaire Collective or Black Sky? Or if it fell into organized criminals, like the Golden Bough Society or Loca Greiga? And if you think Earth and Mars are oppressive now, imagine they'd do with this."

Holden pushed himself out of his seat, glaring at Fred. The OPA leader looked up at him stone faced.

"Naomi might have been killed. We were almost blown out of the sky by the Faust. This was all for nothing."

"You don't know how to play the long game, Holden. As usual, you look before leaping. Just like you did after the Canterbury. You stumble upon one revelation after another, and your first thought is shout it to the rooftops. The data stays safe on Tycho. It won't be released to the public until conditions are right to do so. There will be no arguments."

Fred turned his attention to his hand terminal. Holden was incensed at being ignored so quickly. He started to back out of the room when Fred spoke again.

"The executive suites are open to you and your crew, as recompense for your actions on Galatea."

"Oh, the executive suites!?" Holden asked, soaking the words in as much sarcasm as he could. "I'm sure that means a lot to the miners about to die in inferior suits. Or ice haulers, about to be gored by meteorites that stronger armor could resist. Ever see what happens to someone's body that's only ever had low quality juice?"

Fred pushed out of his seat, rising to face Holden. The captain braced himself for the worst, when a voice came from behind him. It was one of Fred's staff officers, holding a large hand terminal.

"Critical information you've been waiting for sir," he said to Fred. "For your eyes only."

Fred waved the officer forward. The young, crisply dressed man handed the terminal to Fred. He turned his back to Holden and started reading the terminal.

"Dismissed," Fred said, over his shoulder.

Holden's hairs stood on end, anger swelling. He balled his fists and clenched his teeth, refusing to leave. As far as Fred was concerned, Holden could have been invisible. He poured over the terminal, asking the occasional question to his officer. Realizing he was beat, Holden grudgingly stepped out of the office to find his crew mates.

• • •

Holden entered the suites, to a panoramic view of the stars. Servers went around the tables, offering slices of real citrus fruit. A bartender served drinks to one side. Holden guessed each of the bottles behind the bar had been imported, and cost more than most salaries on Tycho, and he was right. The soft toned music playing in the background seemed to mock him, given the state of mind he was in.

Holden's nose picked up something he hadn't recognized in a long time, the smell of cooking meat. Actual, Earth raised meat. Memories sprang up of his Sunday dinners on his family's farm in Montana.

He reached into his pocket and felt the coin, turning it around in his fingers. Alex stared out the scenic window. Holden felt he had to make a decision. Reveal what he had seen, or let Alex have hope. It would be a decision he'd frequently revisit for a long time.

He grudgingly let go of the coin, letting it slip back into his pocket. Crew morale was critical, they needed to stay in good spirits. Holden needed his pilot happy. Better for him to know that his friend was out there somewhere. Alex was the bond that kept everyone together. Ignoring the knot in his stomach, he forced himself to side up to the pilot, admiring the view. Alex spoke first.

"Should be a couple of weeks, then the Roci will be good as new."

"Great," Holden said, less sincere than he wanted to sound.

Alex turned to Holden, the captain looked at him, fighting back guilt.

"I called over and over," Alex said. "All night. Nothing, not a single reply. I mean, we had something Holden. A connection. We were like, kindred spirits. She was a pilot too, you know. Maybe we could have brought her along. And...and I can't get a hold of her."

Holden forced a smile, and slapped his back reassuringly. "Its a big galaxy out there, Alex. People come and go all the time. Things happen. Just...keep trying, at least a little longer. If it wasn't meant to be..."

"I know," Alex replied, unconvincingly.

"Well, I've got check up with the others. Going to be alright?"

"Oh you know me. Some time in the simulator, I'll be right as rain. Always clears my head."

"Glad to hear it."

Holden turned around. Amos sat in the corner, brooding. He stared blankly at the surface of his table, shot glass and bottle of bourbon in reach. The captain knew it was best to leave him be, when he was like that. He found his own table, to wait for Naomi. A few moments later, she entered the suite and found him. She smiled warmly and took the seat opposite his.

"James, aren't these rooms wonderful?"

"Sure, yes," he said, feigning being impressed.

"How are you?" she asked.

"Well, I'd say I feel like crap. But that seems a silly, considering you were shot."

"My armor took most of it. Just got the fragments. A little recovery time with some medical gel and regen drugs, and you'd never know anything happened."

Holden offered his hand, and Naomi took it. He savored the moment of peace between them, as they enjoyed the star studded panorama.

"Do you think we'll survive this Jim?"

"Crew we, or us we?"

"I was thinking us we."

"I really hope so, Naomi. I've been difficult the last year, I know. If there's anything I can do..."

"There is."

"I'm listening."

"Next time we hunt pirates, try to talk them down?"

Holden grinned. "It's a deal."

Hand in hand, they silently admired the stars, as the Tycho continued spinning in the Black.


End file.
